


Lock Picking

by jujubiest



Series: PoI Ficlets [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Gift Giving, Lock Picking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese arrives at the Library in a good mood, and with a gift for Finch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock Picking

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever PoI ficlet (I started watching the show last week and am now diving into season 2, and more obsessed than I care to admit with these characters). I don't really have the characters' voices down yet, though, so apologies.
> 
> Set sometime before 1.06. I like to think that Reese would eventually try to teach Finch little skills like this, since he insists on ending up out in the field so often. :P

“Morning, Harold,” Reese said, in that tone that immediately put Finch’s teeth on edge. Reese only called him Harold when he was planning on doing something he knew perfectly well Finch was not going to like. Usually something involving getting to know one another better…or rather, Reese getting to know Finch better. He had never had to try so hard in his life to keep a person at arm’s length.

“Good morning, John,” he replied nonetheless, stoically returning his casual first-name dropping. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

“Oh, I am,” Reese said, grinning. Reese’s grin was disconcerting. It sat uneasily on his face, pulled crooked, like a Halloween mask that didn’t quite fit.

“Dare I ask?”

Reese grinned wider. “I hoped you would.”

He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. It was a small bundle, neatly and compactly wrapped, of black canvas cloth. He offered it to Finch with a slightly more sedate smile, as though he’d forgotten what his face was doing but his lips just couldn’t help tilting up around the corners. With mounting apprehension, Finch accepted the small parcel.

“Oh…what’s this?” He asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. He had not thought they were at the gift-giving stage. He really ought to work harder at keeping this acquaintanceship professionally distant.

“Go on,” Reese said, voice belying the eagerness in his face. “Open it.”

Finch turned it over carefully, finding the buttoned edge and unsnapping it. He laid the bundle down and unrolled it slowly, to reveal what appeared to be a number of small metal picks with ends of different shapes: some pointed, some hooked, several zig-zagging oddly.

He looked up at Reese questioningly.

“I don’t—“

“It’s a lock pick set,” Reese explained patiently. “I thought I could teach you.”

Finch looked back down at the set of picks, a small smile working its way stubbornly onto his lips.

“Why…thank you, John. Do you use a set like this?”

“Not really,” Reese admitted. “In the field I usually end up having to use whatever’s on hand: a knife blade mostly, sometimes a paper clip or nail file. But I learned on a set like this one.”

“Well,” said Finch. It had been a long time since anyone had offered to actually teach him something. He was more or less used to being the smartest person in the room. “If you’re willing to teach I’d love to learn.”

Reese’s grin at that was not the off-kilter all-teeth grimace of a man wearing a mask. It was a real smile, something simple and genuinely happy that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes, making him look younger somehow, instead of older.

“Let’s get started.”


End file.
